The Doctor is In!
by Autobot-Tiff
Summary: It’s maintenance check day and Smokescreen is a nervous wreck! But after he has a bad reaction to a vaccine Ratchet gave him, it’s up to him and Prime to not only treat the young not, but help cheer him up. Requested by EmeraldMoonGreen.


**Transformers Prime belongs to Hasbro.**

**Requested by EmeraldMoonGreen. Thanks for this adorable and sweet idea! I enjoyed writing this!**

**The Doctor is In!**

D-day. Doomsday. The dreaded day that any Autobot feared: maintenance check day. It didn't seem bad for the Autobots, but it didn't wasn't good either. Either way, they all had to get their maintenance check from Ratchet. And there was no backing out whatsoever.

The whole morning, Ratchet was checking up the Autobots one by one. So far, nothing serious came up. Everyone was functioning normally, and no needed adjustments had to be made.

As Ratchet was getting his tools ready for the last Autobot's checkup, he hoped they wouldn't put up a fight with him like Bumblebee's recent checkup. He heard the doors to the medical bay slide open. The last Autobot to have their maintenance check was Smokescreen, who was standing nervously at the doorway.

"Um...I'm here for my checkup, Ratchet," he said, hiding behind the door.

"Well don't just stand there, come on in. The sooner we get through this, the sooner we finish. So go ahead and take a seat."

Smokescreen reluctantly walked inside, and sat on the examination table. He waited nervously for Ratchet to begin his checkup. He was nervous because he never had a maintenance check before. He was scared it would hurt, but he was more scared of Ratchet's scary medical tools.

As Ratchet came up to him to begin the examination, Smokescreen had to fight the urge to run out of the medical bay, screaming. "Alright, lay down so I can do a physical scan." Smokescreen quietly obeyed.

While he scanned over his body, Ratchet heard Smokescreen whimper as he shut his optics tight. The young bot was scared that it would hurt.

When the scan was complete, Ratchet observed the data from his nearby monitor. Nothing seemed to be wrong with Smokescreen's internal systems, which the medic was thankful for.

Then he took his core temperature, checked his optics and audio receptors, checked his limbs and joints, and finally listened to his spark beat. That part was a little difficult because Smokescreen would flinch, and push Ratchet's hands away when he tried to place the stethoscope on his chest. The metal piece was cold to the touch every time it was pressed against his chest.

"Well Smokescreen, I am happy to say that you are functioning normally," Ratchet said as he began putting his tools away.

Smokescreen sighed in relief, but then felt a twinge of worry when Ratchet said, "Well...almost."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"According to your physical scan, all you need is special booster shot so your frame doesn't get irritated by the Earth's atmosphere."

Smokescreen froze in panic. A booster shot? He never got one before. "A shot? But...I thought I was just here for a check up! T-There are no shots scheduled for today!"

"Relax, Smokescreen. It won't hurt." Ratchet turned around, revealing a very large-looking syringe. At least, it looked very large to Smokescreen.

Smokescreen's spark pounded faster and faster as Ratchet inserted the medicine into the syringe. "Now, let me see your arm."

"M-My arm?!" Smokescreen hugged both his arms.

"Well of course, that's where I need to inject the medicine. Now...are you right or left handed?"

"Um, right handed, but why do I—"

"Then I will inject this in your left arm," Ratchet interrupted. "You will feel some soreness in your arm afterwards, but don't worry. It's a very common side effect. It will only last a few days. Now, let me see your arm."

Smokescreen hugged his left arm close. "N-No! Ratchet please, don't make me take that shot. I-I...I'm scared."

"Scared of what? Smokescreen, it's just one little booster shot. Just hold still, and I'll do this quickly." He was about to grab his arm, but Smokescreen scooted away from him.

"No, stop! I don't even need that stupid shot!"

Ratchet was starting to get frustrated. "Yes you do. You need this so your chassis doesn't get irritated or infected by the Earth's atmosphere. Your Cybertronian frame is not used to this new atmosphere. Stop whining like a sparkling so I can do this!"

Smokescreen swatted his hand away. "Stop it! You're making this worse! I'm fine, okay? Look," he sighed. "I'll take the shot, just...let me calm down for a second. I can totally do this."

Ratchet sighed. "Fine." As he waited patiently for Smokescreen to calm down, the young bot suddenly jumped off the table and ran out of the med bay. "So, I've got another runner? Not this time."

He chased Smokescreen down the hallways, all around the base. He knew he wasn't going to catch the youngling on his own, so he opened his com link.

**:Optimus, it's Ratchet. I need your help here.:**

**:What is it, old friend?:**

**:It's Smokescreen. I can't get him to take his booster shot. If you see him running towards you, could you please bring him back to the med bay and hold him down for me? I need to give him this booster shot.:**

**:Will do. Prime out.:**

Ratchet decided to wait in the med bay since he had Optimus already helping him. He waited a few minutes before he heard loud voices coming from the hallway.

"Smokescreen, stop struggling!"

"Well then stop dragging me across the floor! Let me go!"

Optimus came into the med bay, dragging a struggling Smokescreen by his ankles. He sat him down on the examination table, holding him by his shoulders so he couldn't escape again. "Is that all, Ratchet?"

"No. I just need you to hold his left arm out for me."

"What?! No way!" Smokescreen squirmed and struggled on the table. He did not want to get that booster shot, but he didn't have much of a choice. "Ratchet, please! I don't need that!"

"Listen, you have to take this if you want to survive here on this planet. Just hold still!"

"No! Optimus, let go of me!"

"Smokescreen, please. Just sit still, and this will be over before you know it," Optimus chided gently. He had a hard time trying to get Smokescreen to stay still since he was moving around so much.

"Just hold him still, Optimus," Ratchet said.

Prime nodded, and grasped Smokescreen's left arm firmly. Despite the youngling's protesting and whining, he held him steady for the injection.

Smokescreen kept yanking and pulling on his arm, trying to budge free. He kept eyeing the big needle with frightened optics. He suddenly felt Optimus turn his helm away. "Perhaps it is better if you do not look at the syringe, Smokescreen," he heard him say.

Now that he couldn't see what was happening, Smokescreen felt more frightened than ever. He started whimpering like a lost puppy, feeling his optics starting to get a bit wet with tears. He had never felt so scared before. And being held down by Optimus to forcibly get a shot wasn't helping him, either.

He squeezed his optics tighter and yelped when he felt the small pinch of the needle entering his frame. Prime squeezed his shoulders in a comforting manner. Losing all control of his emotions, Smokescreen began whimpering louder and let Energon tears drip from his optics. He leaned his helm against Optimus's chest.

"There. I'm done." Ratchet placed a small sticky patch on his arm to prevent any bleeding. It was like placing a band-aid for a human. "You're done now."

Smokescreen still had his face buried in Prime's chest, whimpering softly. "Young one, he's finished. You can leave now," he heard Optimus say. He felt him release his shoulders.

The youngling quickly wiped his optics. "I...I'm done?"

Ratchet nodded. "Yes. Honestly Smokescreen, why did you make this so difficult? It was just a simple little booster shot." Smokescreen turned his helm away as his optics started glistening with tears again. "This would have gone quicker if you would've simply complied and sat still. I can't believe I had to dragged Optimus here just to drag you here!"

Optimus patted his old friend's shoulder. "Ratchet, it's okay. What's done is done. There's no need to argue about this."

"Tell that to your immature team member who can't even get through one simple maintenance check!" Ratchet pointed at Smokescreen.

"Relax, Ratchet. It's already done so let's put the past behind us."

"Alright then. Smokescreen, you are clear to go. But if you feel any sudden changes, please come back to me." Smokescreen nodded and climbed off the table, and then quickly walked out of the med bay. He headed straight for his room because he felt like he was going to cry again, and he didn't want anyone to see him like this.

As he laid down on his berth, he rubbed his left arm. "That really hurt," he said to himself. "I can't believe I got all worked up back there. Well, it's not my fault I never got a maintenance check!" He winced as he felt a sharp sting under the plastic patch on his arm. "Great. Now my arm has a spark beat."

He suddenly felt a little sleepy. "Maybe I'll just take a stasis nap. Maybe that'll take the pain away from my arm." Pretty soon, Smokescreen was knocked out.

**The next morning**

Smokescreen woke up feeling awful the next day. His left arm throbbed painfully, he had a splitting headache, and his joints suddenly ached.

When he first opened his optics, his vision was blurred and his helm ached badly. He tried sitting up, but his elbow joints trembled with pain underneath him that he had to lay down again.

It felt hot and stuffy in his room, but then he realized it was just him. Smokescreen pressed the back of his hand against his forehead. He winced as his forehead felt like the inside of a smelting pit. His core temperature was rising.

"Aw man...why do I feel so bad?" he weakly asked himself. "I need to go see Ratchet." He forced himself to sit up, despite the weakness and pain, and immediately regretted it as it made him feel dizzy.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly sat up. He almost fell, but used the berthroom walls for support. He couldn't see straight because his vision was blurry. Even the room looked like it was spinning.

Smokescreen groaned and held his helm with one hand. He then realized Ratchet was right; his left arm felt sore and heavy. He could only lift it halfway before his whole arm throbbed with pain.

The young bot slowly shuffled towards the doorway. As he slid the door open, he winced and groaned as the light from the hallway made his helm ache even more. "I just...need...to find...Ratchet." His knee joints felt like jelly, and he could hardly stand straight.

All of a sudden, he lost all complete strength in his legs and collapsed to the floor with a loud _clang! _Smokescreen tried getting up, but was surprised as his whole body froze up in a temporary paralysis lock. He could only move his helm around.

Having no strength or energy to call for help, Smokescreen laid his helm against the floor and shut his optics.

A few minutes later, he heard footsteps come rushing in quickly. "Smokescreen? What happened? Are you alright?" he heard the concerned voice of Optimus Prime.

Smokescreen weakly lifted his helm. He was relieved when he felt his joints loosening from the paralysis lock. "O-Optimus? I don't feel so good..."

"What's wrong?"

"Everything...hurts. Just...get me to Ratchet. Now." Optimus carefully lifted him up, and cradled him in his arms. He walked as fast as he could to the med bay.

Ratchet's optics lit up when he saw his leader. "Ah, Optimus. I was just about to come looking for you. I need to ask you—" His gaze suddenly dropped on the young Autobot Optimus was holding. "What's wrong with Smokescreen?"

"I'm not sure. I just heard a loud noise coming from Smokescreen's quarters and when I went to go see, I saw him laying down on the floor. He said he doesn't feel well, and that everything hurts."

"Quick, put him on the examination table. I'll take a look at him." As Optimus carefully laid the youngling on the table, Racthet ran a quick physical scan on him. "Well, I see the problem here."

"What is it?" Optimus asked.

Ratchet pointed to his monitor. "Smokescreen seems to have had a bad reaction to the booster shot I gave him yesterday. That is why he is feeling this way."

"Is it serious?"

"No, nothing too serious. But he's experiencing blurry vision, limb and joint pain, extreme overheating, headaches, and temporary paralysis." He turned to the moaning youngling. "How are you feeling, Smokescreen?"

"H-How am I feeling?" Smokescreen weakly asked, lifting his helm. "I feel terrible! Ughh...I feel like butt!" Optimus and Ratchet exchanged confused glances. "And it's all thanks to your stupid booster shot you gave me!"

Ratchet rested a delicate hand on his helm, but quickly pulled it away as his armor was hot to the touch. "I understand that there are side effects to the booster shots I give to Autobots, but you seem to have a bad reaction to it."

"I-I told you not to give me that shot!"

"It was necessary for your own health!" Ratchet argued back. "But I just never seen an Autobot with this many side effects before. This never happened to anyone."

Smokescreen laid back down again, shielding his optics from the bright overhead lights. "Thanks a lot, Ratchet. You infected me with your booster shot of death!"

"Well how was I supposed to know you would have a bad reaction to it?"

"I don't know! You're the medic here!"

"Will you two calm down?!" Both Autobots fell silent as Optimus raised his voice. "Ratchet," he asked calmly. "Is there any way to help Smokescreen get better?"

"Well...I can conduct a special Energon formula for him, but it may take some time."

Smokescreen propped himself on one elbow. "Wait. You're not going to give me another shot, are you?" His optics were full of worry again.

"What? No. I'm just going to give you some medicine that you can drink." Smokescreen sighed in relief. He stiffened with a painful groan as he felt his body go into another paralysis lock.

"Oh Primus," Ratchet sighed. "Smokescreen's body has fallen into another paralysis lock."

"Is is permanent?" Prime asked.

"No, it's only lasts for a few moments. But it is very uncomfortable for the victim." He observed the monitors again. "His core temperature is rising slightly. I need to cool him down." Ratchet placed a wet cloth over his forehead. "I think it would be better if we placed Smokescreen on a spare medical berth so he can rest more comfortably."

Optimus picked him up and laid him down on the berth. "Don't worry, Smokescreen," he said, gently patting his warm helm. "Ratchet will take good care of you, and help you recover."

"Yeah, look where that's gotten me." Smokescreen gestured to himself. He glared at Ratchet. "This is all your fault! You made me sick with your infected syringe!"

"I understand how you feel, but—"

"I knew I shouldn't have gotten that shot, but you didn't listen to me! Y-You said it was 'absolutely necessary for me'."

"It _was _absolutely necessary. I just—"

"Well thanks a lot, Ratchet! Look what your 'absolutely necessary' booster shot did to me!" Smokescreen sat up, ignoring the oncoming splitting headache.

"Smokescreen, calm down," Optimus said to him.

"I won't calm down!" Smokescreen raised his voice. His optics burned with tears. "I got sick because of him!" Smokescreen fell to the berth face first, and hid face in his arms as tears began trickling down his optics.

"Smokescreen, you need to calm down," said Ratchet. "Your crying isn't helping your overheated systems. You're just making it worse." But the youngling continued to whimper behind his arms. Smokescreen only stopped crying when he felt his splitting headache return.

Optimus already gave him the week off to recover. Part of him was glad that he would be able to relax for a whole week indoors, but the other part of him was mostly mad at Ratchet.

For the rest of the day, Smokescreen remained in the med bay while Ratchet was concocting a special medication formula for him. He kept a close optic on the young Autobot in case something serious happened.

While he was working, Ratchet was there for Smokescreen to treat him when anything happened. Smokescreen was still complaining about the pain in his joints and helm.

"It's okay, Smokescreen. I'll give you something to help with that right now," Ratchet said from his desk.

"Ratchet? Can you please turn off the lights? It's hurting my optics." The bright ceiling lights were making Smokescreen dizzy, and making his vision blurrier. Ratchet quickly turned off the lights, and then resumed his work at his desk by turning on a small desk lamp.

Smokescreen suddenly began moaning loudly as he felt his body tense up and go into another paralysis lock. "R-Ratchet..!" he cried out.

The medic quickly rushed over to him. "Shh, it's okay," he said, gently petting his helm. He winced as his helm was hot to the touch. He saw Smokescreen trembling as the paralysis lock was hurting him.

Ratchet gently lifted his arms and legs, carefully moving them up and down to help ease the pain. "There. Is that better?"

Smokescreen sighed in relief as he was able to move again. "Y-Yeah. Thanks. But my helm and joints still hurt."

"I know, but I'm going to give you something to help ease the pain." Ratchet brought back a spare cube of Energon and a small vial of pills. Then he turned on a nearby berthside lamp. "Here. I need you to take one of these special antibiotic pills every six hours."

Smokescreen eyed the vial of pills. He shook his helm. "Nuh-uh!"

Ratchet opened the vial of pills. He held one close to Smokescreen's mouth. "Open your mouth."

"I don't want that!"

"You have to take it if you want to feel better."

"No!" Smokescreen clamped his mouth shut as Ratchet tried to shove the pill in his mouth. He suddenly swatted the vial out of his hands, spilling the pills all over the floor.

"Smokescreen!" Ratchet scrambled to gather the fallen pills. "You have to take this!" Ratchet tried to shove the pill in his mouth again. He suddenly ducked down with a yelp as Smokescreen swung his arm at his helm.

"Did you just sway at me?!" Ratchet asked angrily.

Panting, Smokescreen replied, "Maybe."

"Take the pill!"

"_No!" _It turned into a small scuffle, as Ratchet pinned Smokescreen's arm down with one hand and used his other to give him the pill. But Smokescreen still refused to open his mouth, and even tried to bite Ratchet a couple times.

Finally, Ratchet was able to forcibly shove the pill into Smokescreen's mouth. Before the youngling could spit it out, Ratchet quickly grabbed the Energon cube and said, "Now swallow it!"

He tried to pour the Energon down Smokescreen's throat, but he quickly shut his mouth. Energon ended up spilling down Smokescreen's cheeks and chest. Through all the struggling, Smokescreen did ended up swallowing the pill.

He felt like crying all over again because Energon was now spilled all over his front. Ratchet used an extra cloth to clean him up. "There," he said with a sigh. "That should bring your core temperature and headache down in about...ten minutes. For now, just lie down and try to get some rest." Then he walked backed to his desk, and continued making the medicine for Smokescreen.

The medicine in the antibiotic pill made Smokescreen drowsy, and he eventually fell asleep. That finally gave Ratchet some peace and quiet. However, the silence didn't last for long.

Three hours later, Smokescreen finally woke up. His core temperature went down, but his armor was still a bit warm. "R-Ratchet?" he groggily asked.

"How are you feeling, Smokescreen?" Ratchet asked from his desk.

"Still a little sore." He winced and groaned. "But my helm still hurts."

Ratchet came over and scanned him. "You seem to be running low on energy. I'll bring you some Energon. Wait here."

"Wait," Smokescreen said, propping himself on one elbow. "C-Can you bring it to me cold? My insides feel like a smelting pit."

"Alright then. Just try not to move around so much." As Ratchet left to get a fresh Energon cube from their supply closet, he had no idea Smokescreen would be so impatient when he got back. He kept whining loudly, demanding his ice cold cube.

"Ohhh, where's my Energon?!" he asked loudly from his berth.

"I am getting your Energon!" Ratchet replied angrily. Since Smokescreen wanted it cold, he froze the cube slightly. But now, he couldn't pour the liquid into a bowl since it was now frozen.

"I want my Energon!" Smokescreen whined louder.

"It's frozen solid, I can't even get it out!" Ratchet struggled to pour the frozen Energon.

"_Energooooon!!" _Smokescreen wailed, kicking his legs like an angry sparkling.

Ratchet slammed his hands on the desk. "_Shut up!"_ Smokescreen continued to whine loudly, and he was starting to get on Ratchet's last nerve. The medic couldn't take it anymore! He suddenly grabbed a nearby wrench, turned the cube upside down, and started smacking it to get the Energon out."

"Nuuuuuhh, I want my Energon!" Smokescreen whined.

Ratchet angrily smacked the cube a few more times until, finally, a huge blob of frozen Energon plopped onto the bowl. He shoved a spoon into the bowl, and carried it to Smokescreen, who still continued to whine annoyingly. "Here!"

Smokescreen finally fell silent as he accepted the bowl. Ratchet sighed tiredly, running a hand over his face. He was relieved he finally got the youngling to be quiet. He watched Smokescreen with curious optics as he pressed the frozen Energon against the side of his helm and groaned. "Ohhhh..!"

Ratchet continued to mix the medicine together until it was finally complete. He made the medicine edible since he knew he wouldn't be able to give it to Smokescreen through another vaccine. But since he didn't have spare cups or spoons to pour the medicine with, Ratchet didn't know how he was going to make Smokescreen take it.

He suddenly thought of an alternative solution. "Smokescreen, can I have the spoon from your bowl?"

"No!" Smokescreen said through a mouthful of Energon. The frozen Energon had melted a little, so now he was spooning the Energon-like ice cream into his mouth.

Ratchet sighed. How was he going to make Smokescreen take the medicine? And then he remembered he had a small rubber syringe in his desk drawer. He only used it a few times to give Bumblebee his medicine through his mouth when he was a small sparkling. But now, many years later, it was actually going to be useful.

He carefully poured the medicine inside the syringe. "Alright Smokescreen, the medicine's finished. I just need you to take this. This will make you feel all better."

As soon as Smokescreen saw the syringe, he broke out in a panic attack. "No! No, don't make me take that! I-I can't take another shot! No!" He hid behind this thermal blanket.

"Relax, I'm not going to inject this into your body. It's a rubber syringe, so it goes in your mouth. You're going to drink this."

Smokescreen relaxed a little, but he still didn't want to take any more medicine. He turned his helm away when Ratchet inched the syringe close to his mouth.

"Smokescreen, are we going to have to do this again? It's not going to hurt you. Just drink it!" Smokescreen shut his mouth, and pushed Ratchet's hand away.

"No! I don't want that!"

Ratchet wasn't going to put up with him again, so he once again tried to shove the end of the syringe into his mouth. Smokescreen then smacked the syringe right out of Ratchet's hand.

"Smokescreen! Really?!" Ratchet picked the syringe off the floor. "Just take it already!"

"NO!"

"Do you want me to get Optimus in here again? Because I will be happy to bring Optimus in here if you do not take this medicine right now!"

Smokescreen hid behind his blanket again. He began whimpering and moaning in pain again as his helm was pounding. He grabbed his helm and whimpered in pain. "Ow. Ratchet, my helm hurts!"

"Then take this medicine," Ratchet softened his tone. He carefully rubbed Smokescreen's helm. He was glad his core temperature was dropping because now his armor didn't feel so warm anymore. "It will make you feel better, I promise. I would never try to harm you, Smokescreen." The young bot removed the blanket from his face and glared at the medic. Ratchet sighed. "I would never try to harm you _again."_

Smokescreen eyed the syringe full of medicine. Then he finally opened his mouth, and let Ratchet insert the syringe. As soon as he had a mouthful of medicine, Smokescreen cringed as it tasted funny.

"Just swallow it."

Smokescreen swallowed the medicine, and almost felt like puking as the medicine left behind an awful after taste. "Ughh...that tasted awful. That tasted like sludge water!"

Ratchet rolled his optics. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. That will finally bring your sickness down. You should expect a full recovery in a couple days." Smokescreen groaned. "In the meantime, I will allow you to recover in your own room." He helped Smokescreen down from the berth.

When he helped him walk to his room, he asked, "Is there anything else you need?" Smokescreen shook his helm. He turned to his side and lowered his door wings. "Look, I know you are still mad at me, but there's no need to act like that. I am just trying to help you." Smokescreen remained quiet.

Ratchet tried to reach out to pet his helm, but Smokescreen moved away from him. The medic sighed. Then he got up and left the room.

**Three days later**

Smokescreen was doing much better now. After forcibly taking more antibiotic pills and that nasty tasting medicine from the syringe, he wasn't feeling so sick anymore. His vision cleared, he had no more headaches, no more limb and joint pain, and no more paralytic locks.

Ratchet came into his room that morning. "Well Smokescreen, I am pleased to say that you have made a full recovery. Are you feeling much better now?" Smokescreen nodded.

Over the last three days, Smokescreen had not spoken to Ratchet. He was still upset and mad at him over the booster shot.

"Smokescreen, you do not have to be mad at me anymore. You're not sick anymore."

"I guess you're dumb booster shot didn't offline me then," Smokescreen mumbled.

Ratchet sat down on his berth. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to scare you that day with the injection. But know that it was beneficial for your health."

Smokescreen turned his helm away, lowering his door wings. "But I didn't want to take that shot 'cause I knew I'd get side effects from it."

"I understand you had a bad reaction to the injection, but that's okay. Everyone's system is different. And at least you had someone like me to take care of you afterwards."

Smokescreen didn't seem so convinced. "But still...needles really scare me, and the way you gave me that injection just made me absolutely terrified."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I never meant to scare you. Now will you please stop being mad at me?" No response. "Smokescreen, please." This time, Smokescreen covered his face with his thermal blanket.

Ratchet sighed. He hated seeing him this way. The medic's optics lit up when he suddenly saw his exposed pedes sticking out from under the blanket.

Smokescreen squeaked in surprise as he felt something grab his right ankle. He sat up and saw that Ratchet held his ankle in his lap. "Ratchet? What are you doing?"

"Just relax, Smokescreen." Ratchet tried to hide the grin on his face so he wouldn't suspect a thing. "Even though you claim you are feeling much better, there are still some things I need to check."

"Like what?"

"Like your reflexes," the medic explained. "Since your body has gone into several paralytic locks, it can permanently damage one's nerve circuit system."

"So what does that mean?" Smokescreen asked with a hint of worry in his voice.

"It means I will have to check your reflexes. You know, to make sure nothing's damaged. I am just going to run a few stimuli tests, and just react like you would normally react."

Smokescreen nodded. He had no idea what Ratchet was up to. He gasped and pressed his lips together as Ratchet stroked a finger up and down under his ped. Now Smokescreen new what Ratchet was trying to do.

Ratchet noticed the growing grin Smokescreen was trying to fight back. "It's alright to laugh, Smokescreen...unless you can't. Can you?" Smokescreen covered his face with his hands, trying his hardest to hold back his growing giggles.

Ratchet gasped. "Oh no, this is bad. You are not responding to the stimuli. Perhaps if I used a different method, then I will see if your reflexes are working properly." He then switched to his other ped, using one finger at first until he raked all five of his fingers under his ped.

Smokescreen couldn't keep it together and burst out giggling loudly. "R-Ratchet!! Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!! Stop tha-ha-ha-ha-hat!!"

Ratchet couldn't hold back his smile. "I can't Smokescreen. I need to check all your reflexes to see if they are functioning properly."

"Ha-ha-ha-ha!! T-They are!! Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!!"

"I will be the judge of that." Smokescreen started laughing loudly as Ratchet held both his pedes in his lap, tickling them hard and fast.

"AAAAAHA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! RA-HA-HA-HATCET, STOP PLEA-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEASE! I-I'M FINE! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"

Ratchet had a hard time holding Smokescreen's legs down since he was kicking like mad, so he finally released his ankles. "Good news, nothing is wrong with the wiring in your pedes. Now then, let me check your abdominal area."

Smokescreen gasped and instantly covered his stomach. "No, please! I'm very ticklish there!"

Ratchet gently pried his hands away. "Relax, youngling. I'll be gentle, I promise." He paused before saying, "But now that you say that you are very sensitive there, I will need to call for backup." He tapped into his com link.

"W-What are you doing?" Smokescreen sat up with wide optics.

Ratchet ignored him. "Yes, Optimus? Could you please come to the med bay immediately? I am in need of assistance with Smokescreen here."

Smokescreen's horrified optics widened like the size of dinner plates. He knew what was going to happen to him right there and then. He needed to get out of here! But before he could make a move, the doors to the med bay slid open as Optimus walked in. "Why did you need me to come here, Ratchet?"

Ratchet came up to him, and whispered something in his audio receptor. Optimus glanced and Smokescreen and nodded understandingly. Smokescreen tried to make a run for it, but he was quickly caught and held down by his shoulders onto the medical berth.

"Come on guys! Let me up!" he said, squirming to break free.

"In a minute, Smokescreen," Prime said, tightening his hold. "Ratchet just needs to check you up first." Before he could answer, Ratchet began softly dragging his fingers across his belly. Smokescreen instantly jolted and started laughing.

"RATCHET PLEA-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEASE! NOT THERE! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"

The medic simply brushed Smokescreen's hands away as he tried to push him away. "It's okay, Smokescreen. Your loud laughter means the checkup is going smoothly and working." Ratchet ran his fingers up and down his side, then across his belly, and then his other side, each time making Smokescreen laugh harder.

"AAAAH! NO-HO-HO-HO! PLEASE STAAAAA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HAP!"

"You're almost done, Smokescreen. I just need to make sure your amor hasn't come loose." Ratchet then began to softly trace the patterns of Smokescreen's stomach plating. Smokescreen desperately tried to push Ratchet's hands away. His laughter got higher and higher with each teasing stroke.

"OKAY, OKAY, STO-HO-HO-HOP! HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE! STOP I-HI-HI-HI-HIT!"

Optimus smiled at the giggling and blushing youngling underneath him. He, too, felt like he was partly responsible for Smokescreen getting sick after the shot. But he mostly felt bad for having to hold him down, and witness the fear and sorrow that took place that day. But now, he felt like he was making it up to him, by making him laugh. Even if it was forcibly.

"Well, no adjustments need to be made to your abdominal wiring," Ratchet said after Smokescreen caught his breath. He nodded at Prime to let Smokescreen go.

"Are...Are you done?" he asked, panting.

"Almost. I just need to check your neck wiring and arm joints, and then your done."

Smokescreen's optics widened. "What?! No way!" He hugged himself for protection.

Ratchet flashed one of his rare smiles. "It's not that bad, Smokescreen. I need you to lift your helm for this next part so I can see your neck wiring."

Smokescreen shielded both sides of his neck with his hands. "No! I'm not letting you anywhere near my sensitive wiring!"

"Alright then. I guess I will have to check your arm joints first." He was about to reach for his arm joints, but Smokescreen right away slammed his arms down to his sides.

"No, don't!"

"Then stay still for this next part." Then he whispered to Optimus, "Hold him down again," Prime nodded, and held the youngling down by his shoulders again. Ratchet started gently tickling under Smokescreen's chin, earning an adorable giggle fit from him.

"R-Ratchet! Hee-hee-hee-hee! S-Stop i-hi-hi-hi-hit! That tickles! Hee-hee-hee!"

Smokescreen tried scrunching up his shoulders for protecting, but the medic managed to slip his fingers through. And either way, he couldn't really lift his shoulders since Optimus was holding them down.

Ratchet teased his neck for a little while longer until he finally paused. "Your neck's fine, Smokescreen. The last thing I need to check are your arm joints. I need you to stay still and lift your arms for me, okay?"

"I don't think I can do that Ratchet," said Smokescreen.

"Of course you can. This is the last part, so I won't take that long. It will be quick."

Despite the panicky feeling Smokescreen felt, he was actually having fun being tickled by the Autobot medic. He didn't mind being tickled, and he didn't mind being held down by Optimus.

When he didn't comply, Prime went ahead and grabbed Smokescreen's arms. He held his wrists down securely over his helm. "I got him, Ratchet. He's all yours."

"Now hold still, Smokescreen. And don't bring your arms down no matter what." Smokescreen giggled at Ratchet's last comment. He knew that was not going to be possible, but he was going to try.

As Ratchet began softly stroking Smokescreen's underarm joints, the youngling couldn't stop himself from bringing his arms down. But he couldn't because Prime was holding his arms up.

"Smokescreen, keep your arms up," Ratchet said with a smile. He noticed the youngling was trying to pull his arms down from Optimus' grip.

"I CA-HA-HA-HA-HAN'T! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! IT TICKLES SO-HO-HO-HO MUCH!"

Smokescreen shrieked loudly as Optimus used one hand to vigorously tickle his exposed arm joint. "AAAAAAAHA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! RATCHET, NO-HO-HO-HO-HO! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HAAAA!"

"Smokescreen, it's not me," Ratchet said with a chuckle. Smokescreen opened his tear blurred optics, and saw Optimus grinning above him as he continued to tickle him. He couldn't say anything because all words were replaced by sweet loud laughter. Ratchet joined in, tickling his other arm joint.

Poor Smokescreen couldn't even pull his arms down to protect himself. He only laid there, laughing and squirming uncontrollably.

But not long after, Smokescreen couldn't take it anymore. His optics were full of mirthful tears as he said, "OKAY, STOP RATCHET! HA-HA-HA-HA! O-OPTIMA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HAS! NO MORE, PLEA-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEASE!"

Seeing how their patient laughed himself to tears, Ratchet and Optimus finally stopped tickling him. "Congratulations, Smokescreen. You survived the stimuli tests. No problems have been detected throughout your entire system."

Smokescreen slowly sat up. He wiped the tears of mirth from his optics. "Was that...was all that really necessary?"

"Yes it was. Haven't you ever heard of the human saying, 'laughter is the best medicine?' And as the Autobot medic, I highly recommend more of it to you."

"Thanks Ratchet, but I think I'm okay now."

Ratchet placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Again, I am sorry for what happened three days ago. I won't scare you like that ever again."

"And I am sorry, too," said Optimus. "I never meant to put you through all this."

Smokescreen smiled back. "Well, I'm sorry...that I was being the worst patient in the med bay that day."

"You're just lucky I didn't decide to tie you down to make you take your antibiotics!"

"I said I was sorry!"

Optimus stared at them curiously. "Did I miss something? What do you mean you were going to tie Smokescreen down to make him take his antibiotics?"

Ratchet patted his old friend's shoulder. "Long story. I'll fill in the blanks later." He turned to the young bot. "For now, why don't you go ahead and join the others? And take it easy since you are barely recovering."

"Sweet!" Smokescreen hopped off his berth. "Wait, does that mean I won't be allowed on the field yet?"

"Well...we will have to wait and see. I really shouldn't allow you out on the field just yet. Just take it easy for the rest of the week. If everything is functioning normally by the end of the week, then yes, I will allow you back on the field." Ratchet glanced at Optimus. "And it all depends on Optimus, as well."

"I agree with Ratchet, Smokescreen," the Prime told him. "Let yourself recover for the rest of the week, and I will allow you back on the field again."

Smokescreen nodded. "No problem. Sounds good." Sure, Smokescreen was a little sad that he would have to stay inside the base for the rest of the week. But he was even more happy that he would get to spend the rest of the week watching TV, relaxing, and even eating some of Bumblebee's secret Energon candy stash. The young Autobot wouldn't have it any other way. It looked like it was going to be a swell week for Smokescreen.

**THE END**


End file.
